The Consequences and How They Were Damned
by Skitty-Kat
Summary: Sam Evans falls in love with Kurt Hummel the moment he glimpses his pale leg through the door which Noah Puckerman fails to fully close behind him.  an angst meme fic involving blackmail, slushies and a duet  P/K, S/K


Title: The Consequences And How They Were Damned

Word Count: 5303

Pairings: Puck/Kurt, one-sided Sam/Kurt

A/n: Written for a prompt on the angst meme. Bit of an old prompt but something caught me about it and this happened.

:::

Sam Evans falls in love with Kurt Hummel the moment he glimpses his pale leg through the door which Noah Puckerman fails to fully close behind him.

Okay, so that's an exaggeration but by the time the door has swung mostly open again behind the oblivious Puck, Sam has seen enough for his heart to be kidnapped, bound in chains and secured with a thousand obsessive locks. Kurt sits there, cheeks flushed rosily from exertion and lips swollen red, wearing nothing but a shirt far too large for him. It drapes in folds around his slender frame, hiding a lot but revealing just enough to tease. Were Sam more poetic he would have waxed lyrical about Greek statues with marble skin - as it is he just tries to appear interested in what Puck is saying (something about football, after all that's why Sam is visiting his new teammate's house, the football coach being keen on team bonding) while an angelic vision sits in sunlight behind the other teenager's shoulder.

Kurt doesn't look up once before Puck and Sam head down the stairs and Puck doesn't seem to have noticed that his guest has seen his deepest secret so Sam stays quiet. It's not like the situation needs explaining - a beautiful boy is sitting in Puck's bed wearing what is probably Puck's shirt while looking as post-coital as anyone possibly could, languid and flushed and oh God, Sam wants him. The feeling coils in his belly: want and lust and hot jealousy.

He decides right there and then that he is going to have Kurt Hummel, damn Noah Puckerman and damn the consequences.

:::

'Sing with me,' is his first gambit.

Kurt looks appropriately flustered for a moment, cheeks nearly as bright as when Sam first saw him at Noah's, before drawing himself up and damn near looking _down_ at Sam for all that their height difference forced him to look up.

'And what makes you think,' he says haughtily, 'I would deign to sing with you?'

'I have a cute smile?' Sam tries, aiming to hit the dorkier side of almost-flirting and hopefully appearing entirely oblivious.

'I haven't even heard you sing,' Kurt sniffs, turning to his locker. 'I'm not allying myself with someone then finding out he's as good at singing as Dick van Dyke is at sounding cockney.'

Sam laughs, though he's more preoccupied with the way Kurt's eyelids half-close and his full lips purse as he delivers the comment. Sam wants to kiss those lips and make those eyes flutter closed for a different reason.

'I haven't heard you sing either,' he says, 'so it's a leap into the dark for both of us.' Kurt doesn't say anything in response, though his eyebrow raises in something of a question. 'I mean,' Sam continues, 'I heard from others that you're, um, pretty amazing and stuff. And that your voice is, like, totally unique for a guy.'

Kurt's lips make a little moue. 'Well, that's true enough.'

'And, to be honest,' Sam goes on, going for his most earnest just-tryin'-my-best expression, 'I just transferred from an all boys' school. I'm a little bit scared I'm going to go a bit girl-crazy so sticking me in close proximity with one for extended periods of time probably wouldn't be good for me.'

Kurt turns to face him full on, clearly unsure whether he should feel insulted or not. 'Okay,' he says. 'If,' he holds up a finger, 'if you're good enough, I'll give it a go. Anything to save you from your rampant libido.'

'That's good enough for me.'

:::

It goes amazingly well. Kurt is suitably impressed with Sam's voice that he doesn't make too many cutting comments ('it's constructive criticism, Sam Evans. You'll thank me for it one day') and Sam is just about blown away by Kurt's. Their practices quickly gain a feeling of easy companionship and Sam can't help but feel that Kurt is thriving under the friendliness and acceptance he gets from him. He wonders if Kurt ever gets anything like that from any other guy he knows. As far as he can see the other Glee guys, while they get along with Kurt, don't seem entirely relaxed and comfortable with him. Little things, like the way they don't just sit down and chat to him like the girls do or look to include him in any guy stuff.

Even Puck - and Sam knows exactly how intimate he and Kurt are, he's seen the evidence himself - keeps his distance in school. Kurt seems perfectly happy to return the favour but that doesn't stop his gaze occasionally lingering on that mohawk as it passes. Sam gets it; this is small-town Ohio and Kurt doesn't want to get himself or Puck hurt because of this thing they have. Sam almost wishes Puck would man up and just take Kurt's hand and to hell with consequences but then if Puck does that Sam will never have a chance with the boy. And he really wants that chance.

They sing well together. It's a little odd at first, mixing Sam's clean-cut pop style with Kurt's showgirl treble but they find their link when Kurt dips into the flirty alto range he has. Their duet in front of the rest of the Glee club is surprisingly well received - not that Sam really knew what to expect, part of him was still fearing a committee giving stone-faced marks out of ten - and Kurt seems really happy to be up there performing with him.

So part one, getting close to Kurt, is a success.

:::

Kurt and Puck argue over it.

'It's just a song, Noah! I don't see why you have to be so upset!'

Puck growls. 'Because I have to sit there while you're making eyes at Mr Tall-Blond-and-Handsome, even playing his fucking guitar with him!'

Kurt rolls his eyes. 'Pshaw! He's not even really blond. A Cosmo girl knows.'

'Oh, and how would you know that? Collar and cuffs don't match?'

'My haircare knowledge is the best in Lima, possibly even Ohio.' Kurt folds his arms as he realises what Puck's second comment is implying. 'And no, I haven't even thought about examining his other hairs, you filthy … filthy beast, you!'

'You seemed happy enough to dance around with him like you wanted to dance right into his pants.'

'I was performing a song with him. Duets require a certain amount of chemistry, thank you. Don't think I didn't notice you trying to charm your way back into Quinn's good graces.'

'Don't even think about making this about me and her,' Puck's tone is low and threatening.

'What, I'm not allowed to bring up your constantly-spurned adoration of the girl you got pregnant but you're allowed to make baseless accusations based on the fact that I enjoyed singing with someone?' Kurt realises he's practically shrieking and he drops to sit on the bed, running a shaky hand over his hair. 'I'm sorry, I know you don't want to talk about her. But you can't just fly off at me about some stupid song!'

Puck plops down beside him, hands still fists on his knees. 'You just looked so happy with him up there,' he confesses.

Kurt shrugs, his eyes suddenly wet. 'I got to sing with another guy and he didn't care about my sexuality, he just accepted me for who I am and wasn't scared to stand up in front of a bunch of people he barely knew and give it all he had. I … it's not something I get a lot, Noah.'

'Fuck, I …' Puck slides an arm around Kurt's shoulders, drawing him close. 'I know, Kurt. I'm … I'm sorry I can't be that guy for you, not now. You know why.'

Kurt rests his head against Puck's neck. 'Yeah, I know.'

:::

Sam receives his first slushy shortly after and, okay, that hurts. Not as much as being bitch-slapped by a Norse frost giant (he imagines) or punched by Iceman or someone cool like that (heh, _cool_, it's funny because it's a pun) but the humiliation of standing there with ice dripping down his face while other kids walk by and sort of stare at him - yeah, that sort of sucks. The corn syrup in his eyes really stings.

It's made a lot better when he's bent over the sink under the tap and Kurt's hands are running efficiently through his hair. Sam can feel the other boy's body heat close to his side, not pressing close - Kurt's not suicidal enough to initiate that sort of bodily contact with a guy he barely knows - but present enough that the rest of Sam feels cold.

'Does this happen a lot?' he asks, staring at the cracked porcelain of the sink.

'Often enough,' Kurt says, pressing Sam's head a little further under the tap. 'You learn to deal with it; keep spare clothes in your locker, that sort of thing.'

'So when Finn told me to join Glee club because it's cool…?'

'He was lying, yes.' Kurt shuts off the tap and squeezes the excess water from Sam's hair. 'There, all out. Up.'

Sam raises his head obediently, though he has to bend down to let Kurt towel his hair dry.

'Is that the worst of it? The slushies, I mean.'

Kurt stops rubbing for a moment and looks at him thoughtfully - and fuck, Sam is mesmerised by those eyes.

'Well, you're on the football team so it probably will be for you. They don't tend to dumpster-dive the other Glee guys, or locker-slam them. Not on such a regular basis, anyway.'

Kurt's looking at the floor now so Sam tucks two fingers under his chin and tilts his head back up. 'They shove you into lockers? Dude, that's not cool. You're, like, tiny.'

Kurt scowls (it's adorable) and rubs Sam's head harder. 'I'm not.'

'No offence, but you are.' Sam ducks away from the towel, which now seems to be trying to push through his skull. 'Okay, you're not exactly short but you're, I don't know, petite? You're probably half the weight of whichever morons are slamming you around and that's just not cool. They probably wouldn't shove a girl around and, to be honest, half the girls round here would probably be harder to throw around. Um, again, no offence.'

Kurt gives an abrupt little shrug, twisting the towel in his hands. 'But I'm not a girl. I'm gay so, clearly, that makes it okay.'

'It isn't, though. I hope you know that.' Sam lays a hand on Kurt's shoulder, kneading it gently. 'And thanks for telling me - about the gay thing, I mean. I didn't want to presume.'

The look on Kurt's face - half puzzled, half amused - is enough to tell Sam he said the right thing. 'Well, that makes you an original,' Kurt drawls. He reaches up, tentatively, to push Sam's hair back. 'I hope you've got a comb.'

Sam grins. 'Always.' He pulls it from his pocket with the flair of someone showing off a flick knife.

'Aren't you a regular Danny.'

Confusion pauses Sam in the middle of fixing a tangle. 'Who?'

'Danny Zuko?'

Sam laughs. 'Oh, _Grease_.' He finished putting his hair into some semblance of order (not that wind-tumbled surfer dude is a hard look to achieve) and tucks away the comb. 'Does that mean we have to do an awkward man-hug now?'

'In the boys' bathroom in the middle of the school day?'

Sam doesn't answer that in words, only pulls Kurt close and wraps his arms around the slim boy. He almost doesn't feel Kurt warily reciprocate, too distracted by the fact that Kurt Hummel is pressed against him and he could probably die happy right now. He breaks away before Kurt gets too uneasy, though, and pats his shoulder.

They smile at each other before heading back out into the hallway. Sam finds himself grinning throughout the day, remembering Kurt's heat against his chest.

:::

Sam's earned his place in Kurt's favours now. He sometimes sits with him (and by extension Mercedes, Tina, Artie and whichever Gleeks are joining them) at lunch. Today he's entertaining them all by showing just how easy it is to get a whole Pringle into his mouth sideways. He opens his mouth to show them how it's still miraculously unbroken and they crack up again.

'Hey, ladylips!'

Karofsky walks by with Azimio, and Sam feels Kurt grow tense beside him.

'Bet that's not all you like getting your mouth around, gayboy!'

Azimio laughs, slapping Karofsky on the shoulder. 'That why you hang around with him, Hummel? Hoping to get into that pretty mouth?'

Kurt goes completely rigid, lips parting to deliver what will probably be a well-worded and frightening accurate assessment of both the jocks' mental abilities and future employment prospects but Sam beats him to it.

'Only because I couldn't get my mouth around your mom,' he tosses out blithely. 'I mean, when your momma's so fat even my huge mouth can't take it, well …'

Azimio looks like he's about to explode. Luckily, Sue Sylvester chooses that moment to stroll through the cafeteria on one of her daily exercise-and-anger-management excursions and the two jocks are in her way.

'You, Laurel and Hardy,' she says, 'though actually, given your build I'd say you're both closer to the size - if not the comedy talents - of Oliver Hardy. So, Hardy boys, are you going to move or am I going to have to take you in for excessive loitering and taking away from the aesthetics of this lovely cafeteria?'

They go, and Sue continues on her way like an avenging fury in a tracksuit. When she's halfway across the room and berating a girl for having excessively ugly hairclips they all turn back to the table with a whoosh of relief, only to find that Kurt has gone. Sam sees him leaving the cafeteria in the opposite direction to Azimio and Karofsky and hurries after him, waving the others not to worry.

'Hey,' he says, catching up with Kurt in an empty corridor and tugging him gently to a stop.

Kurt's face is pale when he turns - well, paler than usual - and his expression is tight.

'What's up?' Sam asks.

Kurt shakes his head, leaning back despondently against a row of lockers. 'You know, if you didn't hang out with me so much they'd probably go easier on you. Less of the gay jokes, anyway.'

Sam sighs and props himself on one arm next to Kurt. 'But then I wouldn't get to hang out with you.' He smiles. 'And I like doing that.'

'It can't be worth all the crap you get for it though,' Kurt says, after his eyes have done a passable impression of a goldfish drowning in air.

Sam is starting to realise that being with Kurt is going to involve a lot of emotional baggage but the sunlit image of Kurt's semi-naked body pops back into his head and he knows it'll be worth it. Some day, and soon, it'll be his shirt Kurt is wearing right after they've, you know, done it and stuff. He gives Kurt his most sincere smile and grabs his hand.

'Believe me,' he says, 'it is totally worth it. I like you, Kurt, and I don't care what any of those waste-of-spaces out there think about it.'

Kurt's mouth does a weird thing, like he's biting back the urge to grin like an idiot, and the hand that Sam's holding trembles suddenly.

'Thanks,' he manages, and his voice is even softer than usual, 'that's very … very sweet of you.'

'No problem.' Sam squeezes Kurt's hand. 'Want to go sit outside? I think the sun's finally made an appearance.' He doesn't let go, pulling Kurt along beside him. 'And you know what? What they were saying, about you wanting someone with a mouth my size? They pretty much just implied that you have a massive cock.'

The resulting snort of ribald laughter is the least dignified thing Sam has yet heard from Kurt.

:::

Puck paces angrily across the room, glaring at the boy sitting defensively on the edge of the bed.

'You were holding his hand, Kurt,' he spits, 'walking through fucking Mckinley on your merry little way holding hands with Sam freaking Evans! What the fuck is wrong with you?'

Kurt crosses his legs, staring back at Puck with all the ice he can muster. 'I hold hands with Mercedes all the time.'

'Yeah, but she's a girl so it doesn't count. He's a guy, Kurt, he's a fucking football player, for Christ's sake! I'm surprised he hasn't already been fucking lynched!'

Puck is practically screaming by the end of his rant, spit flying from his mouth. Kurt leans forward, hands clenched on the bedspread.

'Oh, what are you, Finn now? "No, Kurt, don't touch the nice straight boys, you'll get the gay all over them." For pity's sake, Noah! He took my hand first, okay? He took my hand, told me that he didn't give a damn what anyone said about him hanging out with me and, no, funnily enough, I didn't pull away. So sue me, a cute guy says he likes me and I appreciated that - does that make me some sort of criminal or something?' Kurt's breathing hard, face red and chest heaving.

'Then maybe you should just go be with him or something,' Puck says, tone angry and bitter.

'Oh for …' Kurt stands abruptly, hands on hips. 'I'm with you, Noah,' he snaps. 'There's a reason for that.'

:::

Sam grabs Kurt's hand again, and this time it's because they're running for their lives - or at least, their clothing. With Azimio left behind, spluttering and covered in slushy, it seems prudent for them to put as much distance between them and the big jock. It hadn't been intentional but Kurt had been walking innocently down the corridor, wearing one of his favourite sweaters in soft cream, and Azimio had been coming the other way, clutching one of his favourite torture devices in toxic blue. Azimio's hand had been rising to hurl the sweater-ruining ice when a sudden and unexpected flail of the passing Sam Evans's arm had sent into back into the jock's face. Quite by accident, of course.

And so Sam and Kurt are running, breathless from both exertion and rapidly growing laughter. They burst through the doors of McKinley like they're escaping prison, scattering a few Cheerios and racing far far way from the enraged bellow thundering from the corridor they had just left.

Eventually they stop behind the bleachers, still laughing. Sam flops to the ground, clutching his stomach while Kurt sits decorously beside him (having just saved the sweater from slushie-slaughter it wouldn't do to subject it to the indignity of grass stains).

'Oh my Gaga,' Kurt gasps, leaning on one hand, 'did you see his face? He is going to murder you!'

Sam waves a hand. 'So worth it. It was just the perfect opportunity, man. One perfectly _accidental_ hand wave and boom! Azimicicle!'

Kurt laughs again, eyes bright in the sunlight, and Sam is struck yet again by how damn beautiful he is. Quinn's pretty and she has real come-to-bed eyes but Sam suspects that no guy gets under her sheets. Kurt looks like he should be the same but Sam knows, Sam's seen that Kurt can be persuaded to rumple his sheets - even throw off his whole duvet, if the metaphor'll extend that far. And that's totally hot.

'Thank you,' Kurt says, looking straight at Sam and smiling warmly. 'That neanderthal will probably kill you but my sweater and I thank you.'

Sam sits up, leaning closer to Kurt and gently bumping their shoulders. 'No problem,' he says. 'Just call me your knight in shining armour.'

'Oh, and that makes me the damsel in distress?' Kurt asks haughtily, crossing his legs exaggeratedly.

'Nah, you're way prettier than any random damson or whatever.'

Kurt twitches at that, suddenly studying Sam curiously. His expression goes still and guarded.

Sam sighs and knows he can't wait any longer. Damn the consequences, he _wants_ Kurt Hummel. 'Kurt … look, I really like you. And not in a let's-be-friends way, you know. Would you … would you ever consider going out with me some time?'

'Oh.' Kurt's eyes widen until the whites are visible all the way around the irises. 'Oh wow.' His fingers seize on his tie and fidget with it compulsively. 'Um, Sam, you're a really great guy and I'm totally flattered but … I can't.'

'I'm not scared to come out,' Sam says, though he knows this isn't why Kurt's refusing him. 'I would be proud to walk down the halls holding your hand and I wouldn't give a damn what any of those idiots say or think.'

There are tears behind Kurt's eyes and his face is flushing pink. 'Sam … I don't know what to say to that, I really don't, but I can't say yes. It's not you, it's me, and I'm sorry.'

Sam leans over, face now inches from Kurt's and though Kurt doesn't back away he watches Sam warily. Damn it all, Sam's going to keep pushing because he really wants Kurt and there's no backing away now.

'That's not a reason, Kurt.'

Kurt gives a sharp little inward breath, biting his lip briefly. 'There's someone else,' he mutters, 'you can't tell anyone, but I'm seeing someone else.'

Sam suddenly knows exactly how he's going to get Kurt for himself. It's an ugly way but ends justify the means, right? Kurt needs, no, deserves someone who'll be out with him and Sam's the right person to do that.

'I know,' he blurts out.

Kurt goes entirely rigid. 'You do?' he squeaks.

'I saw you,' Sam says, 'in his room, naked.' Well, mostly naked.

Kurt looks suddenly terrified, face going chalk white. 'Y-y-you can't tell anyone,' he pleads.

It's going perfectly for Sam. 'I won't,' he says, and watches Kurt go limp with relief, 'if you go out with me.'

Kurt freezes up again, staring in utter disbelief. 'What?'

Sam's flying now. The ground's a long way away but as long as he keeps this going he'll stay up. 'You heard. Go out with me and Noah Puckerman's secret love of cock stays a secret.'

Kurt says nothing for a long while, shock written on his face. He is trembling minutely, which Sam feels as he raises a hand to gently cup Kurt's cheek.

'But if you say no,' he continues, feeling like a jerk but wanting Kurt to much to care, 'then whole school knows before the end of the day.'

There is another long silence, which Kurt breaks by releasing a long shuddering breath.

'Why are you doing this?' he asks.

Sam drifts his thumb across Kurt's skin. 'Haven't you ever wanted something so bad you've just thought "hang the consequences" and gone for it?'

Kurt thinks of last year, of what he did in his fruitless battle for Finn's affection and how horribly stupid and shameful it seems now. He knows, too, what Finn got from the others in school because of Kurt and he can't knowingly do that to Puck, can't open him up to that sort of ridicule.

'Okay,' he says shakily, 'okay.'

Sam's won. He pulls Kurt's face to his and claims his spoils in the form of a kiss. It's wet because Kurt is crying and Kurt doesn't really kiss back but Sam knows Kurt'll be able to feel how much Sam wants him and loves him because that's how kisses like that work, right? Kurt is still shaking when Sam pulls back and he ducks away from a second kiss.

'You've got to give me time to break up with him,' Kurt says. 'I … I won't cheat on him.'

'Okay,' Sam says, and smiles. 'Tomorrow morning, then. I'll walk into school holding your hand.'

Kurt looks briefly like he wants to argue but instead nods stiffly and flees.

:::

Kurt isn't even able to start his carefully thought-out break up speech before he's crying. Puck sits next to him on the bed, any comforting hand he tries to offer pushed away. Eventually, Kurt manages to stiffen his upper lip and stammer out the gist of what he came to say.

'We should break up,' he blurts out, staring straight at the floor.

'What?' Puck certainly isn't expecting this. 'You're breaking up with me? What the hell, Kurt?'

'I think we should break up,' Kurt repeats. He doesn't look up.

'I heard that,' Puck snaps, 'but why? What did I do?'

Kurt keeps his head down, refusing to answer. His knees suddenly become incredibly fascinating, much more absorbing than Puck's incredulous face beside him.

'Is this to do with Evans?' Puck asks suddenly.

Kurt's shoulders stiffen abruptly.

Puck swears loudly, clenching his fists. 'What, is he hotter than me now or something?'

'No!' Kurt denies automatically. 'I mean … oh … I don't…' He bursts into tears again, even committing the cardinal sin of sobbing into the sleeves of his sweater.

Puck's known Kurt long enough to know that something's wrong with this scenario. He takes Kurt's hands, tugging them away his face and turning the other boy to face him. Kurt's eyes flicker up, darting to Puck's collarbone and chin before finally meeting his gaze.

Kurt can't lie to those eyes. 'He … he said he'd out you. To the whole school, if I didn't dump you and go out with him.'

A brief silence follows Kurt's confession. Puck's hands abruptly let go of Kurt's, drawing back to fist on his own thighs and press against his worn jeans. He looks furious.

'So you just rolled over and gave in to him?'

Kurt lets out a loud huff of breath, turning his tear-stained face away. 'Was I meant to let the entire school know?'

Puck shrugs, still angry at the betrayal. 'Why not?' he sneers. 'Seems you can make decisions about our relationship without consulting me.'

'I could never do that!' Kurt says fiercely, head snapping back round. 'I know precisely how much it sucks to be out in high school.' And how much it sucks to be alone in it, he thinks but doesn't say. 'I would never force anyone to out themselves. It has to be their own decision.' He takes Puck's hands in his own, soft skin encircling calloused fingers. 'I didn't make it a condition of our relationship and I'm not going to. I … I really like you, Noah, and if that means sneaking into your closet to be with you then that's fine with me.'

Puck stares at him with wide eyes. 'Kurt, you're …' he stutters, tugging Kurt close and wrapping his arms around him. 'You're way more than I deserve.' He rests his head against Kurt's shoulder, letting out a long sigh. 'God, I said once that I was so badass I could go to school in a dress and still be cool. I haven't really lived up to that, have I?'

Kurt's hand raises to shakily stroke Puck's mohawk. 'If I'm honest, Noah, I don't think that a dress would suit you. Entirely the wrong body shape.'

Puck snorts. 'I meant - it's a metaphorical dress, okay? A metaphorical dress of homosexuality.'

'Sounds fabulous. Is it glittery?'

Puck pulls his head back to raise an eyebrow at Kurt, who smiles back innocently. Puck, unable to stop himself, kisses Kurt until they both lie breathless and flushed together on the bed. He stares down at Kurt, brushing a gentle hand back across the boy's hair before it gets too dishevelled.

'To hell with Evans,' he says suddenly. 'Tomorrow morning, I am gonna walk into school holding your hand and I'm not going to give a damn what any of those douches say about it.'

The look on Kurt's face almost kills Puck. It's so open and hopeful but horribly darkened with fear. Fear for the consequences, or fear that Puck will make this promise and not go through with it. Puck grabs Kurt's hands and squeezes them, holding them against his chest.

'I swear it, Kurt. To hell with hiding and all that. I'm going to be the man you deserve for once.'

Kurt pulls their hands up and kisses Puck's knuckles softly. Tears shine in his eyes like hope.

'I won't hold you to it. If it comes to it, tomorrow, and you want to back out … th-that's fine with me.'

:::

It isn't until that evening, when he's sitting in his room with the latest issue of _Young Avengers_ on his knees, that Sam suddenly wonders if what he did was wrong. Okay, so the method was morally questionable but as long as it was for the right outcome it didn't matter, right? Vigilante beatings aren't exactly legal but that doesn't stop Batman being one of the best superheroes ever.

What Sam's doing, he rationalises, is actually rescuing Kurt, even if Kurt doesn't know or appreciate it yet. Kurt totally deserves more than Puck. Sam has heard a lot about Puck in the short time he's been at McKinley: how he's a stud, how he's gotten under the skirt of practically every Cheerio on the squad, how he knocked up Quinn last year. Kurt deserves someone better, someone like Sam.

Sam is going to treat him properly: romance him, hold his hand, all that kind of mushy stuff. He'll be the Superman to Kurt's Lois Lane or - Sam glances down at the pages in front of him - even better, the Hulkling to his Wiccan (heh, they could totally cosplay that too). If it's all for the greater good, as Dumbledore would have said, then the end has to justify the means.

It'd be an awesome story to tell their grandkids and all, Sam thinks with a dorky grin.

Still, it niggles at him. Kurt had been crying, even when Sam had kissed him. Hopefully he'll cheer up soon though, once he realises that Sam is a much better boyfriend than Puck could ever be.

It'd be a bit of a bummer if Kurt insisted on crying every time Sam kissed him.

Kurt will understand eventually, Sam tells himself. He'll make sure of it by being the perfect boyfriend: he'll carry his books, hold his hand and they'll totally go at it like rabbits whenever they're alone.

Sam smiles to himself, leaning back and anticipating the soft feel of Kurt's hand in his own.

:::

Puck doesn't back out. He meets Kurt in the parking lot, takes his hand firmly and takes his next step one footfall at a time.

'They're not going to go easy on you, you know,' Kurt says.

Puck grins. 'Bring it on.'

And Kurt is so happy, so radiant, and his hand is so natural in Puck's that Puck realises he truly is the luckiest guy in Ohio and wishes he'd damned the consequences a lot longer ago.

End.

:::

Epilogue.

Puck doesn't actually give Sam a black eye the next time they meet but it's damn close. Sam can feel the locker shuddering behind him as the shockwaves from Puck's punch reverberate through the metal. No words are spoken - they don't really need to be.

Puck just glares, his face inches from Sam's. His breath smells of Cheetos.

Sam raises his hands non-threateningly. He knows he's lost and, bizarrely, a great sense of relief rushes over him.

They stare at each other for about a minute until Puck jerks his chin in an abrupt nod. Sam nods back, briefly, and they go their separate ways.


End file.
